


Reencounter

by Asaliz



Series: Requests [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Azran Legacy Spoilers, F/M, Last Specter Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asaliz/pseuds/Asaliz
Summary: Emmy is travelling around the world, and recognizes a familiar face.What will occur after they meet again?
Relationships: Emmy Altava/Desmond Sycamore, Emmy Altava/Jean Descole
Series: Requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1408393
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Reencounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This one was a request on Wattpad (More than a year ago! Wow!) I’m translating it since I read someone had to rely on google translator to read it. Hopefully others interested on reading it won’t need to do it.

I was on a small town, it started to turn into a touristic spot not long ago. A small and lost location in the middle of Asia. Maybe in a few years the tourism would make it grow, but for now it retained its sensation of village.

I was going to have difficulties finding a place to stay. Maybe I would find an inn or something similar.

The architecture was simple but beautiful, and the surroundings were a dense humid jungle. No doubt I will fill another roll film. Close to the town there were ruins of some ancient city, and I was thinking about visiting them.

_I think I had developed a taste for archeology._ I smiled. But it was somehow a sad smile. On one hand, the happiness for the shared moments. On the other, the guilt of my betrayal.

Since my departure I have dedicated my time on traveling around the world, staying for some time on bigger cities to earn some money, and then continuing with my journey. With the variety of photographs I had, I was always able to sell some of them, magazines specialized on travels were always interested in a few.

I enjoyed the freedom; I was nobody’s agent or assistant. But sometimes loneliness started to make me feel its weight.

I decided to look around inside a small market, there were a variety of stands selling ornaments, clothes, vases, utensils, also foods and drinks. Some things smelled really good, while other seemed to exotic for my taste.

I think I saw a familiar face between the people curiously looking at the stands. But it couldn’t be. Could it? When I saw an old man with a kind voice speaking to him, I had no doubts. It was Raymond, and without a doubt he was…

“Professor Sycamore, what a surprise!”

He widened his eyes a little startled, looking at my direction. When he saw me, he smiled, a bit mockingly, probably trying to hide the fact I surprised him that much. (maybe it was not a big deal, but. What were the chances were for us to meet like this?)

“Well, well. It’s Emmy Altava. Or should I call you Emmeline?”

That bothered me a little. But at the same time, I found it funny. Maybe I was just happy to find a familiar face after so long. While I got closer, my smile became a little mocking too.

“And how should I call you? Do you prefer Jean Descole or Desmond Sycamore? Or are you using another name? I see you cut your hair, and you don’t wear your glasses.”

“You can call me whatever you please. And about the glasses, I never needed them, but they completed my disguise of respectable Professor. I see you cut your hair too.”

I was going to ask about the glasses, cause that fact surprised me. But Raymond intervened the conversation to say hello politely, completely ignoring our discussion that was looking about to turn childish at any moment.

“How are you, Miss Altava? No doubt the world is a small place, for us to meet in a place so remote. What brought you here?”

Raymond was always kind to everyone. I smiled to him. I brought me good memories of our trip around the world. He seemed older, using a cane.

“I’m just taking a walk. I have been traveling since I quit my job as assistant.”

“I have been doing something similar.” The tone he used was calmer and less arrogant. “There are some ruins nearby I had interest for visiting.” Maybe unconsciously my expression showed surprise, because he explained: “Well, I haven’t lost my interest in archeology, despite not researching formally. Nor I have lost interest for other sciences, the exuberant vegetation from this place has many properties.”

I smiled. His interest for knowledge has always been genuine.

“Why did you stop researching, then? You didn’t need to public papers about the Azran anymore.” Though I only asked for conversation, the answer was obvious.

“As you can imagine, after everything that happened, I can’t enter to the UK – as Sycamore – without being arrested. That’s why I faked my death on the ruins, to avoid being searched for.” He made a gesture with his hand, “Yes, when I travel, I use fake names and documents. I don’t think that would be surprising for you, as an ex Targent agent, you know with resources, it’s not something difficult to obtain.”

For some reason it relieved me when I didn’t perceive any anger on his voice when he pointed my association with Targent.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll get going. I was about to find something for my dinner.”

I wasn’t able to read the emotions forming on his face after that. It appeared to me he was considering something, maybe. But finally he spoke.

“Did you just take the time to talk to us just to say hello and goodbye?” I don’t know if he was waiting for an answer, but just after that he added, with a kinder tone, “Raymond and I still travel on the Bostonius. We keep her in good shape. We were about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?”

While I just asked about his name jokingly, I was actually intrigued about who he was now.

_But why I am intrigued?_

Maybe because I was trying not to think about my own debate, who was I then, if I wasn’t a Targent agent or Professor’s Layton assistant anymore?

But I was getting distracted, and they were waiting for my answer.

“I would love to.”

°°°

The Bostonius was just as I remembered it: large, luminous, and with those comfortable purple sofas. We reached it after a calm walk, and being there brought me so many memories, most of them happy, but there was sorrow too. I was almost expecting to see Keats sleeping peacefully over the sofa, and Luke would appear to pet his belly, while chatting with Aurora.

_Aurora_ …

“You can get comfortable. I will be preparing something.”

“Do you cook now?”

“A little. It’s not one of my favorite activities, but I have to. If Raymond is not giving me instructions, it won’t turn out very good.”

I understood he probably didn’t wanted Raymond working so much. He called him friend, but it seemed like his father figure. It was odd. For her, her fatherly figure had been Bronev, the person he hated…

“Allow me to help, then. I do like cooking.” I didn’t have many chances of cooking properly during my travels.

It was incredible how much we talked that afternoon. While we cooked, and while we ate, we caught up about our adventures. Because, just like me, he dedicated his time travelling around the world too. The Bostonius allowed him to do it comfortably, while I managed to do it as a backpacked, which has its charm too.

We also catch up with the information we had about our friends, complementing the information the other had. Layton was taking care of a young girl he met after a case. I had a hard time imagining him as a father, but I wasn’t sure if he adopted her. Luke moved to America with his parents. They were going to miss each other.

But it was getting late, and I needed to find an inn or any place to stay.

“It’s late to walk on the streets.” Said Raymond.

“Why don’t you stay? There is plenty of room.”

I accepted the offer. Raymond helped me to prepare one of the beds and then went to sleep. But I wasn’t tired yet, and went to the main room.

“You can’t sleep?” I found Sycamore there.

“Not yet.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Tea?”

First, I couldn’t know why he smiled.

“If that’s what you want. I was going to have a glass of wine.”

I laughed.

“Yes, I think I would like that. I’ll join you.”

We sat on the sofa with a bottle and two wine glasses. I’m not wine expert, but it was delicious. And, as if we had talked before, we kept chatting.

“What are you going to do after this? Where are you going?” He asked me.

I moved the glass and sipped some wine.

“I wanted to visit Luke. It will take some time until I earn enough money for the trip. But I would like to visit him.”

“Sure, you were pretty close…” He answered distractedly.

Perhaps the wine was affecting me, because I asked “Wouldn’t you like to see him?”

He laughed.?

“That would be something.” He sipped some wine, “Can you imagine? Hello, Luke, how are you? Do you remember the many times I almost hurt you or your friends?” He sipped a little mire, “Good evening, Dr. Triton, do you remember how I blackmailed you in your home? How are you, Mrs. Triton, do you remember how I locked you in the cellar with your butler for six months?” He drank what was left on the glass. His cheeks were a little rosy for the alcohol.

I remained silent for a few moments. The comment was not a good idea. The mocking tone angered me a little. But at the same time, I thought I understood a little.

“They are good people. I think…they would forgive you.”

He looked at me for an instant. He offered me a more sincere smile, but also a tired one.

“I don’t doubt it. But I don’t want anyone’s forgiveness. I don’t regret what I did.”

I put the empty glass over the table. I looked at it for a moment. Then I asked the question I’ve been thinking since I met him that afternoon.

“Who are you then, really: Sycamore or Descole.”

I thought he would take longer to answer, but he did it almost immediately.

“Both and none. You may have noticed. I don’t need to exegete for nobody anymore. Not a theatrical villain, not the pretended shyness of professor Sycamore. I’m just me.” He put his empty glass over the table too, “I could ask you the same. Who are you now?”

“I…” I stopped for a moment to think, “I do regret some things. But not about everything. Or I wouldn’t be the person I am now. I am- I was a Targent agent and Professor Layton’s assistant.”

I looked at him in the eye, and asked, intrigued, something I had been overthinking.

“Why don’t you resent me if I was Targent’s agent? You invited me here just like that, as if we were two old friends…”

“Do you think I resent every single one? No, just the fanatics. As you may remember, I never payed to much attention to Macintosh, nor to those two clumsy ones that assisted him and followed us everywhere, I don’t remember their names… the fat short one and the tall thin one…”

“So, you just consider me a puppet from Targent?” I asked offended. But he didn’t pay attention to my offended tone, he answered calmly.

“No. In fact, I admire you, you know? I spent my life deceiving others and discovering deceptions. Just as I rejoiced to see no one knew both Descole and Sycamore were one, I wa admired you had deceived us. Not Layton, and not me, suspected at any moment.”

It might had been the wine, but that unusual flattery made me blush. I laughed.

Then there was silence for some time. I could spy a few stars in the sky through the dense foliage. I was thinking about going to sleep. He had the same thought, he got up and took the glasses to take them to the kitchen. But before leaving he said:

“You know? You could come with us. I was going to visit America eventually. There are some interesting historic sites there.”

“My pride wouldn’t allow me to stay without doing something in exchange.” I wanted to play hard to get a little.

“You can be in charge of cooking, since is not very much of my liking. And Raymond is getting old.” That last part sounded melancholic.

“I will have to think about it. But I think I like your company.” I answered while getting up.

“I think I like your company.” He repeated softly. For a moment I didn’t know if he was mocking me, but he took my hand and kissed it. I could see his face red from the wine. He was drunk. Then he left without saying anything else.

And I went to my bed knowing my answer.

The next day we agreed on travelling together.

“Then, how should I call you? Professor Sycamore or Descole?”

“Well, I’m not a Professor anymore, so it wouldn’t make to much sense.”

“You are avoiding my question.”

“You once asked me to call you Emmy instead of miss Altava. It would be fair if you call me Desmond, or Jean. As you prefer.” He gestured with his hand, as if discarding something and resting it any importance.

“Desmond, then.” But I felt a little strange and happy.

°°°

Time passed. And little by little we got used to each other’s company. Maybe if someone had told me things would end this way, I wouldn’t believe it. While I still had my room, many times I sleep in his. Little by little we learnt to enjoy each other’s company.

But we were already on America, and I didn’t know how everything would end. I was at the Bostonious’ entrance with my luggage.

“We’ll be at north of here, visiting the ruins we’ve been talking about. We will wait for you there.”

That confirmed he expected I would return. For some reason, we haven’t directly talk about it.

I already communicated with Luke’s parent’s, to be sure they would be at home. But we didn’t tell him, I wanted to surprise him.

But we haven’t talked about what I would do after finishing my visit.

I had to confirm I would go back. That It wasn’t just a fleeting thing.

We were already over the ground, but I left my backpack on the ground, and climbed one of the steps to be at his level, I put my hands on the back his neck, and kissed him.

“See you later, Desmond.” I smiled at him while releasing my hands off his neck and took my backpack again.

“See you later.” He smiled at me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it.  
> This one was fun to write, and now it was fun to revisit it.


End file.
